Mind Games
by Elvawen
Summary: Sam goes to sleep and wakes up inside Dean's head, and when things take a turn for the worse he realizes that he may not be able to get out.
1. Counting to a Million

**Author's Notes**: This story is based on the Buffy the Vampire Slayer episode "The Weight of the World", although it is not a crossover and it will take on a slightly different turn after this chapter.

**Disclaimer**: Supernatural is owned by Eric Kripke, Buffy the Vampire Slayer created by Joss Whedon.

_Read and review, please!_

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"I don't know about you," said Dean, flopping onto the bed on the far side of the motel room, "but I'm beat." The bed creaked as he shifted on it, and Sam nodded, sitting down on the other one.

"Yeah, me too."

"Okay well we'd better hit the sack, 'cause we got a long day ahead of us tomorrow," said Dean.

"Right," Sam answered.

A few hours later, the room was entirely darkened. Sam was exhausted beyond belief, but he had been tossing and turning for the longest time, unable to get to sleep. He closed his eyes and began to count, just as Dean had taught him to do when he was little: "Count to a million, Sammy, and by the time you're done Dad's gonna be home."

_One. Two. Three_, began Sam. _Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine…Ten. This isn't gonna work. _He rubbed his eyes tiredly and opened them—but when he did, he realized that he wasn't in the motel room in the bed any longer.

All of a sudden he was standing in a very different room, clean and well-lit. He blinked in confusion and looked around. He seemed to be in a small child's room; there was a dresser with some framed pictures on the top and toys strewn across the floor. A wooden bed was positioned against the far wall, right next to a bookshelf. Sam stepped forward and examined the pictures on top of the dresser, and as he did he realized exactly where he was.

"Hi Sammy." A voice came from behind Sam, a voice he hadn't heard in the longest time but recognized nonetheless. Sam turned around to see a small boy sitting at a table. He was holding toy soldiers and staring up at the taller man.

"Hey, Dean." Sam crouched down to level himself with his brother.

"What are you doing here, Sammy?" asked Dean innocently.

"I'm, uh…" Sam let out a short laugh and looked down at the ground. "I have no idea. I think I'm dreaming." Dean shook his head.

"I don't think so. You like soldiers, right?" Dean held up a toy soldier for Sam to take, and Sam frowned.

"Dean, why are you here? What's going on?" Dean shrugged and picked up another toy soldier.

"I like it here." He moved the plastic figurines around the table.

"I don't get what's happening," said Sam. "I was just in the motel room, and now I'm here." Dean was still playing with the soldiers, seeming to ignore Sam. "Dean. Can you help me?" The little boy shook his head.

"No. I don't have time. It's a big day for me," he said.

"What?" asked Sam. There was the sound of the front door opening from downstairs, and Dean's face lit up with excitement.

"Mommy! Daddy!" He raced out of the bedroom and down the stairs, and Sam followed, confused. At the sight of his parents, his heart began to pound. His dad stood next to his mother beaming proudly, and Mary was holding a bundled up baby. "You're back, you're back!" exclaimed Dean.

"Hey, buddy." John knelt down to ruffle his son's hair. "How's my boy?" Dean smiled at him.

"Dean, are you ready to meet your new brother?" asked Mary, holding out baby Sam. All of a sudden, the excitement vanished from Dean's face. He folded his arms and backed away, looking upset.

"Oh come on, Dean, he's nothing to be afraid of." Dean shook his head violently.

"Don't you want to be the big brother?" asked Mary. Dean continued to shake his head.

"No I don't. I want to be the baby. You're going to forget all about me and pay more attention to him."

"Oh, Dean…" said Mary. She knelt down and held out Sam, who cooed and made baby noises. Dean turned towards the older Sam, who was watching from a few feet away.

"Don't you look funny?" he asked. "Like a wrinkly old grandpa." Mary gently placed baby Sam into Dean's arms and showed him how to hold him.

"We're calling him Sam," she said. Looking down at his brother's face, Dean smiled.

"Maybe…" he began. "Maybe if you needed help sometimes, I could be the one to look after him? I could take care of him, right? And make sure he's okay?" Mary smiled and kissed the top of Dean's head.

"Of course you can."

Sam watched this scene, almost oblivious to the tears that were forming behind his eyes. All of a sudden the scene cut to Dean sitting on the bed that Sam recognized as the one he was sleeping on in real life. This Dean, however, was quite conscious. He had a black cloth and was wiping down one of his rifles.

"Oookay," said Sam, confused. Dean stopped wiping the rifle and stared at it for a few seconds, lost in thought. Sam turned to his right and saw another Dean, walking away from him and down a long hallway. Sam began to follow him, leaving the other Dean behind. "Where are you going?" he asked. His older brother kept walking down the hallway. "Come on, Dean. I can't keep following you around like this. I don't know what the hell is going on, and I've gotta get out of here." Dean stopped in front of a numberless door, opened it, and entered. A spacious room lay before them, carpeted with grass. In the corner, there was a gravestone. Dean walked over to it.

_John E. Winchester_

_1954-2006_

Staring at the grave, a single tear trickled down Dean's face.

"I'm sorry," said Sam quietly. Dean shook his head, and walked over to a bed that was on the other side of the room. Sam saw himself sleeping in it. Calmly, Dean picked up a pillow from next the sleeping Sam's face. He then held the pillow over Sam's mouth, smothering his younger brother, and Sam saw his own eyes widen in terror as the doppelganger flailed his arms and legs ineffectively. Muffled sounds came from beneath the pillow, and all Sam could do was stare in horror as he watched his own brother murder him. "Dean, what the hell?" he shouted. "What are you doing?" The second Sam was lying lifeless on the bed. Dean simply reached into his pocket and took out a gun. Staring Sam straight in the eye, he cocked it and put it to his own head.

Sam didn't hear the gunshot, but he saw the light in his brother's eyes go dark and the body crumple to the floor. "DEAN!" he bellowed. But all of a sudden the scene changed again. "Okay, now this is weird," muttered Sam, looking around and finding himself back in the child's bedroom.

"Hi, Sammy. What are you doing here?" asked a four-year-old Dean Winchester.

"I'm still not sure." Sam frowned.

"You like soldiers, right?" Sam shook his head.

"No, and Dean, why are we here?" Young Dean frowned.

"Don't you like it here?" he asked.

"Dean, we _don't have time._" Dean's face lit up.

"Mommy! Daddy!" He raced out of the room and downstairs, and Sam had no choice but to go with him.

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TBC


	2. Wall of Memories

**Disclaimer**:

I don't own Supernatural  
It makes me sad.  
I asked my mom  
I asked my dad.  
Even if I sold  
My BMWs  
It all would still  
Be the CW's.

**Author's Notes**: Sorry about the horribly long time it took to update, I've been crazy busy with school and have barely enough time to write on the weekends. But here you go! And I promise, there's more coming soon. Especially if there are reviews!

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Mind Games

Ch. 2: Wall of Memories

"Dean, are you ready to meet your new brother?" Sam watched the scene unfolding in front of him as it played out word for word, again.

"Taking dejá-vu to a whole new level," he muttered.

"…I could be the one to look after him," Dean was saying, as he held baby Sam. Sam simply stared, confused beyond belief. He turned around, looking at the other parts of the house, and saw an older Dean walking down a different hallway this time. Turning and leaving the young Dean and his parents, he followed his brother.

"What are you doing?" he asked, running to catch up with him.

"My job, Sam." Dean answered, still walking briskly.

"What do you mean? Are you going to kill me again?" Dean shrugged.

"If that's what it takes."

"Takes to do what? What are you talking about?" Dean stopped abruptly and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a knife, blood encrusted on the blade. Sam frowned. "Dean, that's the knife that…"

"That Jake used to kill you. Yeah." He palmed the knife for a few seconds, then looked up at his brother. And then, without hesitation, he plunged the knife into Sam's stomach. Sam's eyes widened, he groaned, and fell to the floor.

Sam woke up immediately—at least, that's what he thought. He found himself standing in the grimy motel room that he had fallen asleep in. But something was very different, and he placed it within an instant. He was not lying in the bed as he had been before, but standing in a corner watching himself and his brother.

But they weren't sleeping. Dean was lying in his bed, his hands folded across his chest, eyes wide open yet unseeing. Sam was doing the same. And in that moment Sam realized it, everything. What had happened to him. Where he was. He just wasn't sure why.

He ran for the door.

Instead of the motel room door opening into a long hallway, Sam stumbled into another scene: a wall, with hundreds of pictures on it. The pictures were moving, however, each its own little video of Sam, Dean, or both of them. The audio from each video faded in and out, and Sam caught snippets of them here and there.

_"I want you to watch out for Sammy." "Yeah, Dad, you know I will."_

_"…I guess that's what I do. I let down the people I love."_

_"He just said I had to save you. And if I couldn't…I'd have to kill you."_

_"Here, you gotta do it." "You know, I've tried so hard to keep you safe. …I can't. I'd rather die."_

Sam's breath caught in his throat as he saw each of these, each of Dean's memories, unfold. He suddenly felt a presence beside him, and looked down to see four-year-old Dean standing next to him.

"I know what's happening," said Sam quietly. Dean looked up at him, almost surprised.

"You do?"

"I'm inside your head, aren't I?" Dean said nothing, just stood and watched the wall of memories, concentrating intently on one of Sam and Dean sitting at a café arguing. "We're both out there, in the motel room, in a state of catatonia," Sam continued. "The same thing happened to you when that djinn put you in the alternate reality inside your head." Sam drew a deep breath. "So I know how to get out." Young Dean shook his head.

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do. You said it yourself, you're about to die in a dream, you wake up. Remember? You stabbed yourself to get out of it! So all I have to do is kill myself here, and I'll wake up, and it'll be fine."

"I wouldn't do that," Young Dean said placidly, still focused on the wall.

"Why not?" A sudden shadow of doubt formed in Sam's mind, and Dean turned to face his brother.

"'Cause it's not a dream, Sammy."

"How can that be possible? How can it be not real and not a dream at the same time?" Dean said nothing in response to this, and Sam realized.

"We're stuck in here. I'm not just in a crazy dream like you were. You're inside your own head for some reason…" He paused. "And I'm here to help you get out. Is that—is that right?" Dean smiled, acknowledging that Sam was correct thus far. Sam shook his head, confused. "I'm here to figure out why you're here?" Dean nodded. "But what happens if I don't?" The little boy sighed.

"I'm sorry, Sammy. I can't help you any more than I already have." He turned to leave the room.

"Wait! Dean!" Sam called after him. "How am I supposed to…" But the boy was gone.

Back on the wall of memories, the scenes finished playing out and faded to black.

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I noticed that at least 20 people added this story to their Alerts list, but I got way less reviews than that. If you care enough to get an email whenever it's updated, surely you care enough to leave a few words of encouragement for a struggling writer's soul?

Okay haha, I'm kidding about the struggling soul part. But it'd be awesome if you guys could review.


	3. Deja Vu Deja Vu

**Author's Notes**: It's been forever since I updated, ah sorry about that. This is the shortest chapter, but it's also the second-to-last.

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Sam sped on down the hallway, trying to figure out where the younger Dean had disappeared to. He stopped short when a plain brown door appeared at the end of the hallway. Taking a deep breath, he twisted the knob and let it swing open, unsure of what to expect.

It was the same scene he had seen before—Dean sitting on the motel bed, cleaning the rifles, lost in thought. He blinked, and the scene switched to the child's bedroom again: young Dean playing with his toy soldiers. Sam shivered.

"Hi, Sammy," came the innocent voice.

"Dean, what the hell is going on?" Young Dean looked up at him reproachfully.

"Daddy says you shouldn't say that word, Sam."

"Dean! We don't have time for this! If you spend any more time stuck in your own head, you're going to die."

The sound of the door opening came from downstairs, as John and Mary entered the house again.

"I have to go," said Dean quietly, pushing out his chair and standing up. "Mommy! Daddy!" he exclaimed, rushing down the stairs. However, this time when Sam attempted to follow him, he ended up in a completely different place: the motel room, again. Dean was still cleaning the rifles, and still lost in his own thoughts. Sam sat down on the opposite bed and watched him intently. Soon another figure entered the room, and Sam realized it was yet another Dean, a mirror image of the one cleaning the rifles.

"Have you figured anything out?" Dean asked. Sam turned around to face him. Dean had taken a comfortable, cross-legged position on the opposite bed.

"You have to stop this," Sam whispered. Dean shook his head.

"I can't."

"You _have_ to! Dean, you're stuck on some sort of loop. Why do you keep bringing me back here? What happened here that's so significant?" Dean sighed.

"Do you really want to know?"

"_Yes_, I really want to know! What happened here, Dean?"

"This is where it hit me, Sam." Sam frowned.

"What hit you?"

"We can't save each other. The deal I made…you can't save me. And if I'm dead, I can't save you. It doesn't work." Sam was staring at Dean, a look of confusion etched on his face.

"So what, Dean? Then we find another way!" The young Dean shook his head again.

"This is where I gave up, Sammy. I finally—I just gave in. I decided that I didn't care anymore, and I didn't want to live, and I would die." He took a deep breath, staring down at the floor. When he finally mustered up enough courage to look up, his eyes showed no emotion. "And that is how I killed my brother."


End file.
